


we stand up peerless

by laufire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood Sharing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laufire/pseuds/laufire
Summary: All the times Magnus offered his blood to Camille.





	we stand up peerless

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [this post](http://magalimoons.tumblr.com/post/162985231884/camillebelcourtme-ok-but-could-we-perhaps-get).
> 
> I know almost nothing about book canon, and the little I know I've mostly chosen to ignore.

The first time it happened was, to absolutely no one's surprise, in the middle of sex.

They had left the Queen's party just in time to arrive home before sunrise. There were they, two creatures of the night, both of origins that the guests would've found more than questionable, mocking everything and everyone on sight. Mocking their pomp, their demureness, their fleeting pretensions... Fuck, Magnus didn't remember the last time he laughed so hard.

And her. Oh, her. She laughed too, high and improper and irresistible. She dazzled and scandalized everyone around them in equal parts. None of them would ever forget her.

When they arrived home, with the heavy curtains closed to avoid the smallest ray of light, Camille was still laughing, at some witty joke he couldn't remember despite telling it himself less than ten seconds before. This laugh was softer, but just as striking. And while she laughed, he couldn't tear his eyes of her, content with just that.

Pathetic, in hindsight. 

She returned his look there -and Magnus never doubted that she could read him like an open book- and gave him an indulgent half smile and a hungry stare that had nothing to do with blood.

By the time they made it to the bed they were completely naked, their evening wear describing a path through the house. They knew each other plenty, so they didn't waste any time. Before the next blink, Camille was over him, riding him and keeping him in place with a strength that contradicted her size.

It wasn't, not by far, the first time the idea had crossed Magnus' mind. But it was the first time he felt euphoric enough and reckless enough to propose it. So he presented his neck to Camille, raising his eyebrows, challenging. 

Camille didn't even stop to think it over. She bit his neck, and after the first flash of pain, the pleasure came. A rush like he hadn't felt before, that made him see the stars and grab her hips hard enough to bruise. He held his breath as to, so to speak, not embarrass himself by ending things too soon. 

After a few seconds she moved away, licking her lips. When he felt her tremble above him, he didn't resist longer, feeling all his muscles loosen up. He felt drowsy, like he was floating over a never-ending lake.

"I see you enjoyed that." Camille laid now next to him, staring at him with a probing gaze as she caressed his chest.

"It won't become something regular," he said, feeling the need to clear that up, "but I wouldn't mind doing it from time to time."

She smiled satisfied, and kissed him on the shoulder, right next to the bite mark.

* * *

The next time wasn't as fun.

They had travel to New York by boat, an experience neither of them was particularly fond of. But the truth is that the both of them fell madly in love with the city as soon as they saw it.

The feeling didn't seem to be mutual, seeing the welcoming party.

Shadowhunters attacked them during one of their outings. He and Camille had made a bet about who would try to attack them first: them, or some opportunistic mundane. So he didn't only had to fight, he owed her a gift.

They had been joking when they talked about it. But even if it didn't caught them unaware, they were a lot more than what Magnus would've imagine. A dozen young Shadowhunters, seemingly ready to gamble with their lives if that got them to kill a couple Downworlders. 

By the time they finished them, they both were hurt and he barely felt strong enough to vanish the corpses. At least their room wasn't too far.

It couldn't have been a legal mission, since the Accords would pass in a few months -something that, clearly, their now absent company didn't care about. But that wouldn't win them any sympathies from the Clave if they were caught, so he made his best effort to erase any trail they had left, and told himself that the very next morning he would wipe out the memories of anyone who could inform that he and Camille had landed in the city.

He approached Camille, helping her walk. Her clothes were ruined, stained with her blood and the Shadowhunters', and she had burns in her face and arms. He casted a small glamour over them, so that they wouldn't call any attention to themselves if someone crossed the street.

"Magnus," she said, with a cold and tight voice, "we can't go back yet, I need to feed."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of that."

Once they made it to their room, he helped her sit on the bed and rolled up his sleeve. 

"You're weak, Magnus."

"Magically speaking, sure. But this will be fine. Take what you need to heal."

Still reluctant, she grabbed his arm and complied. This time, with the bite came an instant bliss, the feeling that the night's fatigue escaped his body by the tips of his fingers.

Despite what he'd just said, he felt himself faint and fall over her lap.

* * *

"Oh, come on. Stay a little longer. We're having a great time, you don't have to leave yet."

"I'm hungry, Magnus."

They'd spent the whole day in their room, hiding from Ra's light and the overwhelming heat of the streets. They've talked, laughed, danced and fucked; hours and hours together that left Magnus wanting more.

They were laying in bed and, despite her words, Camille hadn't made any move to leave, still with her head on Magnus' stomach, who was playing with her hair. He couldn't imagine there could be in all the world someone more beautiful. And she never looked more beautiful than exactly like this, naked, relaxed, with closed eyes and a cunning smile resting on her face. The moonlight that filtered through the window gave her such a radiance that Magnus could understand her when she said she didn't care about not seeing the sun again. He didn't miss it that much himself, and when he had to go out during the day, he was even a little resentful of his light, knowing it was what separated him from Camille.

He opened his arms and said, "I'm right here." He laughed to himself, thinking of how crass that would have sound if he wasn't talking to a vampire.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, silently asking if he was sure. Magnus nodded, presenting her his wrist.

But she moved it away, standing up, and sat on his legs, supporting herself with her hands on his chest. With a smirk, she went down and bit him on his hip, right next to the place his navel should have been. Magnus felt himself get hard immediately, and when Camille raised looking smug, Magnus grabbed her and turned them around, feeling that, ironically, her poison had given him strength.

She laughed, and Magnus kissed her slow and steady, as she surrounded him with her arms to pull him closer.

* * *

They were in a Downwordler luxury bar in Saint Petersburg. Though in Magnus opinion, the luxury level of any Russian place would necessarily leave a lot to be desired. He would've never let himself be dragged into that country if it wasn't for business. And even then, before he had the power to create a Portal that could get them out of there in seconds, he might have still refused.

He was there to talk with a couple of Warlocks to exchange ideas, and Camille had accepted to come along to sightsee. If she wasn't with him, he'd question her taste.

The aforementioned Warlocks hadn't arrived yet, and Magnus was getting bored. They were in a sofa covered in furs, slightly separated from the centre of the establishment, with a direct view of the entrance. The place was full of Downworlders, each more outlandish than the next, and even a couple of mundanes with the Sight. 

Magnus let his head fall into Camille's lap, who started playing with the strands of his hair. The furs might not be such a bad idea, he thought, if maybe a little tacky. They were extremely comfortable; a little longer and he would fall asleep.

That's when they came in. It was impossible to mistake them for anything else: dressed in black tactical gear, with runes sticking out of their necks and arms. You could almost smell the instant tension their arrival caused. But Camille never wavered with her caresses or her conversation. 

It was only three of them. Surely, they weren't going to raid the place just by themselves, thought you never knew if they had backup waiting outside. Though if that were the case, they would be freezing.

They must have come to speak with someone in particular. One of them, a woman, appeared to be looking for someone, her gaze travelling through the place. The other two didn't dare to gaze at much, casting furtive looks to their surroundings. 

One of them saw Magnus and Camille and looked away as quickly as he could, with unmistakable disgust. It wasn't hard to guess what had caused it: Magnus never bothered to hide his eyes in places like those, and Camille always left her teeth uncovered, a warning that there was a predator in the room.

Magnus felt a cold rage arising in his veins. This place was _theirs_. The Downworlders'. Shadowhunters didn't have room in there. They were, at best, mere guests, and that was only if the owner had the courtesy to allow them. How dare they enter there, defile the place with their angelic airs of grandeur, and instead of showing a modicum of respect, of decency, choose to judge them all? Accords or no Accords, they were _no one_ in that bar. It was a lesson they had to learn sooner or later.

Without moving, he raised his arms to Camille. She stopped speaking with the vampire sitting next to her, and looked at him questioning. He let one of his fingers caress her lips, her fangs, and she smiled slowly. She rolled down his sleeve and, staring straight to the Shadowhunters, she bit him.

The rush was as sudden as every other time, and he let them see it. To see his feline pupils react, to enjoy the show. The truth is that they seemed frozen with terror, incapable of tearing their eyes away. The woman said something quick to the barman and the three of them left the place as if they were running from a burning building. 

Camille stopped then, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. Her vampire laughed raucously, a sound that spread through the bar, in an unusual moment of Downworlder siblinghood.

* * *

There was something, Magnus had always thought, particularly beautiful about the love between two immortals. At the end of the day, what other love could compare? Eternal love, true love. Two concepts that, in Magnus' opinion, went together.

He didn't love Camille because she was immortal. He loved her because he loved her, because she had fascinated him from the moment he first saw her, because she was unique and incredible, because next to her every experience intensified, multiplied. 

But maybe her immortality made him clang to her. Way longer than he should have, seeing what happened with that little friend of hers. Russian, to add insult to injury.

How naive he had been. What was he expecting? Eternal love?

The last time Magnus offered Camille his blood was, maybe because Magnus liked things to fulfill a perfect circle, during sex too.

It wasn't that they had never had rough sex. They had, dozens of times. When one of them needed the release, or both did, or simply for fun.

But that felt different. Maybe because the violence wasn't mutual, a give and take between them. Magnus was the only violent one there. Camille just let it be, as if she was amused by his uncouth attempt at punishing her.

Magnus couldn't stand it. That way of acting like she hadn't done anything wrong. Like she hadn't just thrown away a love story worthy of being told in ten-volume epic. 

He raised her in his arms, pushing her against the wall with such force that the painting next to them fell on the floor, the crystal covering it in shatters. She just laughed, with a mocking pout on her mouth, surrounding his hips with her legs and his neck with her arms, dragging him closer.

He grabbed her arms, that he now felt like they were chocking him, and pushed them too against the wall, holding them in place.

"If I had known this is what jealousy does to you, I would've done this much sooner."

That felt like another stab at his chest. He raised her from the wall and sank her to the floor, placing himself over her, between her legs, as he pushed his pants down. She got rid of her own clothes, pulling him in with her legs. But that, he though after a few thrusts, wasn't the catharsis he was looking for. It wasn't enough.

After a moment of inspiration, he reversed their positions, which seemed to be the first moment of the night where Camille didn't seem to know what to do. Confusion and doubt painted her face when he ordered:

"Bite me."

Camille frowned, apparently disliking were things were headed.

" _Bite. Me._ "

Camille, reluctant, going slowly as if she wanted to make sure she could stop if he changed his mind, and with a tenderness she'd never showed, complied. 

This time Magnus didn't make any efforts restraining himself and the effects of the poison made him came in barely a minute. He rested then on the cold floor, feeling loose. But the rush was gone too soon, and the reality hadn't changed at all.

He moved Camille, brusquely. She still seemed disoriented. He fixed his clothes and intended to walk through the door without looking back.

"Until the next time, love."

He stopped, and turned back to look at her. She was standing up, and even if she looked dishabille, she had recovered her airs of dignified and amused indifference. 

"I don't want to see you again, Camille."

And the worst part was that, for over than a century, he kept his word.

* * *

Magnus walked through the Institute as he made sure to always do: determined, with his best clothes on and like he owned the place.

An anonymous Shadowhunter he had never spoken with was the one who greeted him, which he made clear he took as an insult. At the elevator doors both Lightwood siblings were waiting for him, on military stance.

"Thanks for coming, Magnus."

Alec nodded at his sisters words, straight-faced. All business.

_Of course._

He send them a vapid smile as they entered the elevator. "I still don't see why you'd need my help with an interrogation. In my experience, you're plenty skilled with that yourselves."

Isabelle seemed uncomfortable, and Alec rolled his eyes. He _rolled his eyes_ , for fuck's sake.

"It's a delicate case;" Isabelle explained, apparently the only one who was going to bother to speak to him, "they couldn't get anything from her, and she kept requesting to talk to you. The Clave thought you might have it easier given your... history."

The doors opened right that second, like they knew what dramatic timing was. Magnus felt like all the joints on his body were suddenly stiff, and almost couldn't believe that he managed to walk the necessary steps to get to the hallway.

"What does the Clave want from Camille?" The voice was so calm it didn't sound like his.

Alec answered him, talking for the first time. "We believe there's evidence that she's involved with Lilith, but we don't know how. You just have to go in there with her and try to make her feel comfortable. You'll be able to visit her until you've gained her trust and she tells you what they're planning. You don't have to hurt her. Besides, your magic won't work in there anyway."

There were so many things wrong with those sentences that Magnus didn't even know where to start. He was about to turn back to the elevator without bothering to respond to them when he saw her.

Other than its prisoner, chained to the wall, the cell was completely empty. Camille wore clothes similar to Magnus' when he was in Valentine's skin. She was thinner and gaunter than he had ever seen her, with a paleness that seemed unnatural even for an undead; her hair was withered, falling over her face without grace.

It was disturbing. Magnus hadn't been able to stop himself from picturing her with her captors once or twice, but he had never been able to imagine her looking so vulnerable. In his mind, she was still wearing the same dress, majestic, cold and sardonic, enduring with composure anything those miserable mortals could throw at her.

But hunger was hunger, he guessed.

He had started walking towards the cell, without thinking. Alec took that as acceptance, since he opened the door for him. There was no way but forward, he supposed.

When he was in, he became even more aware of her deterioration. She had noticeable rings under his eyes, her lips were dried and wounded, and she had scars on her face that resembled the ones Raphael had brought with him after his visit to Aldertree.

Magnus had tried not to think about the consequences that what he'd done might have for Camille. It had been the right choice, because now that he was face to face with her, he could tell he would've never been able to turn her in if he'd known.

It wasn't easy to see someone like her hit rock bottom. Specially if it was someone you loved.

Camille raised her eyes and gifted him one of her little smirks. "Hello, darling."

Only two words, and he let himself fall next to her, caressing her head. He instinctively called his magic, wanting to heal her wounds, even knowing it'd be useless.

"What have they done to you?"

"Nothing they won't pay back for."

He couldn't help but smile when he heard that. She'd spoken with mathematical certainty. He didn't know if she truly had a deal with Lilith or Jonathan or whoever, or if she was completely alone. When he saw her state he'd forgotten for a moment one of nature's oldest laws: people like Camille didn't hit rock bottom. Nobody is strong enough to drag them that far down.

"I guess this visit isn't to remember the old times."

"It could be. And there would be many more visits."

She raised her eyebrows, curious. 

"I could tell you how the Clan is doing without you."

"I know a few details," she said, dismissive, "but we can leave that for later. How are you? I've heard very... interesting things."

That put him on guard. The last months of his live hadn't been exactly boring, so that could mean anything. Did she know that Alec and him...?

"Things about demonic spells."

That made him tense even more. He didn't know how she could have known that. Would Jonathan know? Probably, he must have come from Edom along Azazel. The Inquisitor knew it too. The story might have travelled around Idris and reached Camille. The idea of anyone talking about it made his body itch all over.

"How are you?" She asked again.

"I've had better days."

She snorted quietly, laying her head on the wall and closing her eyes.

As much fight as she had in her, she looked miserable, he thought. It was painful to see her like that. She looked famished.

Almost by instinct -which was ridiculous, since he'd only done it half-dozen times over several decades- he rolled up his sleeve. Camille reacted immediately; her fangs grew, her eyes opened with a feral look. Magnus raised his arm, offering it to her.

"Stop me if it's too much." She bit him without another word.

Magnus hadn't exactly abstained from drugs over the last century, but none of them could compare to that. In mere seconds he felt he was hard as a rock. His mind seemed to float above him, and any pain or discomfort he felt lost all meaning.

In the middle of the high, he had a moment to wonder if Isabelle had stayed to watch or if she'd had time to leave.

Camille drank from him longer than she'd ever done before, but when he patted her arm she stopped without making a fuss. His head felt light, and he probably had lost more blood than he would've recommended anyone, but it wasn't anything he couldn't fix as soon as he got out of there.

When he looked at Camille, seeing how the blood stained her chin was even more unsettling than her initial state. Camille was supposed to be all grace; she never lost control, nothing was ever out of place.

She hadn't taken her eyes from him. She caressed his cheek and told him with reverence:

"If you hadn't been immortal when I met you, I would have turned you."

Absurd, he thought. It was absurd that the tiniest affectionate comment from her could have the power of making his heart beat like that, after all this time.

"Oh, really?"

"A face like yours has to be preserved for future generations."

He laughed, almost at himself.

They kept gazing at each other, and everything about the situation made all those memories he'd tried so hard to repress come back to him. Of those times together, when everything seemed to be laid at their feet, the unofficial king and queen of the Downworld.

He bent down to kiss her softly on her lips, not minding the taste of his own blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://laufire.tumblr.com).


End file.
